What I notice from this film is the
other-worldliness of Spain at that time.
The buildings are vaguely
recognisable but the men ride donkeys like timeless, rural Africans
and the women sweep dirt streets with bent backs because their brooms
do not even have such a thing as a simple long handle.
Their faces generally show hardship (something that has recently returned here with the “crisis,”) while skinny
dogs scuttle around.
Later, we see teams of men working in
the country with hand-held hoes and when a man speaks on the
telephone it is surprising because the mental atmosphere of the film
could have been almost medieval.
The war scenes reinforce how empty
war always is. The attempts to glorify it with stirring music are
hollow only partly because we know that the end result is a stifling
dictatorship, four decades long.
In another scene, now in Madrid, ragged children play in the
street and in the next frame a man hurriedly carries a seemingly
empty coffin over one shoulder.
Food cues (for some people this is a
reality again today) crowd next to destroyed buildings and a single
corpse lies in the gutter. (We are told that the body is that of a
book-keeper on his way to work at eight in the morning.)
After more battle scenes and shots of
noble-peasant types the film, now clearly a piece of propaganda, ends with
a man's voice singing a very moving a capella song, ruined somewhat
by Hemingway's voice-over.
For a detailed explanation of the
making of “The Spanish Earth” see Open
Culture here.
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